Bound in the Spider's Web
by DanteEdwards
Summary: Tracer is captured by Widowmaker and put through rough training to become the Talon Agent's personal sex slave. Warning: Heavy BDSM
1. Chapter 1

Tracer jolted awake and immediately fought against her restraints. Widowmaker watched her squirm from the shadows, enjoying every second of her captive's struggle. She relished the look of concentration on her face crumble to confused frustration.

"Having trouble, dear?" asked Widowmaker who stepped out from the darkened corner of the room.

"Wha-What did you do to me?"

"Don't you know? A spider's bite contains venom. In this case, a concoction of my own design. Made special, just for you. Poor sweet girl…You won't be zipping around any time soon."

Tracer's face flushed red. The Talon operative was naked from head to toe. Her blue skinned body on full display.

"Wha-Where am I?"

"The spider's web."

"What do you want with me?!"

"I want you to make me feel alive."

At first, she was confused. But the realization dawned on Tracer when she looked down at herself. She laid flat across the bed with her limbs splayed out and tied to the corners. Widowmaker had done away with her Overwatch uniform and replaced it with something a bit more to her own liking. A pair of panties with a zipper down the middle so that Widowmaker could seal her up once she's done with her. Leather straps formed a harness, which outlined Tracer's small but supple breasts. Lastly, Widowmaker's favorite addition, a tight choke collar around her neck. Emblazoned on its front was the symbol of a black widow just over her delicate throat so that all would know to who she belonged.

"No," said Tracer, her voice brittle, "you can't."

"Can't?" Widowmaker crawled onto the bed, "are you sure?"

She loomed over her captive who wriggled underneath her deliciously. They were close. Closer than they've ever been before. Widowmaker grew used to viewing Tracer through the distance of a sniper scope. But now with the goggles removed she noticed for the first time the freckles, which sprinkled the bridge of Tracer's nose and cheeks. Widowmaker leaned in for a closer look and Tracer spat in her face.

The back of Widowmaker's hand caught Tracer's left cheek, "We'll have none of that."

On any normal day she would've missed. Tracer was far too quick for that. But now she had her. After so many months of being vexed by the Overwatch operative. Time and time again. Plans foiled, missions gone awry all because of this bitch. Widowmaker slapped Tracer across the face, this time on the opposite cheek. Her hands wrapped around the girl's throat and squeezed.

Tracer's eyes bulged, and she fidgeted. Her fruitless struggling only made Widowmaker's grip tighter. After a long moment, Widowmaker released the girl. Tracer gasped and coughed, desperate for air. Widowmaker herself was out of breath. She was surprised by how quickly she lost herself in her anger. Another half a minute and she would've killed Tracer. The very person she spent so long to capture. But, oh how gratifying it sounded to hear the bitch suffocate.

Still, she didn't want to waste what she had. She was only just beginning.

Twin red marks blossomed where Widowmaker had struck. The mirror shade almost made Tracer look as if she were blushing.

"I like that look on you," smiled Widowmaker, "The beauty of symmetry."

"Fuck you."

Widowmaker shook her head, "Got to do something about that mouth of yours. Luckily, I have a few ideas."

She reached down below the bed where she kept her toys. Widowmaker groped for a moment, before taking hold of what she desired. Without even looking, she knew what is was just by the feel of it.

Widowmaker grabbed Tracer's jaw and squeezed, forcing her mouth open and her lips apart.

"Open wide now. I got a new purpose for that filthy mouth of yours."

Tracer's eyes lit up with horror upon seeing what Widowmaker wielded in her other hand. She writhed, but could not break free as Widowmaker guided the gag into her captive's mouth.

"Please," begged Tracer, "Don't-Mmmffggghh."

Widowmaker stuffed the gag past her lips, filling her mouth. Next, she fastened the strap around her head, securing the face mask in place. Widowmaker flicked the dildo jutting from the gag, which caused Tracer to wince.

"That's better."

Holding her captive's head still, Widowmaker slowly worked her way down the shaft, planting soft kisses here and there. Once reaching the base, she made her way back up before taking the tip of the dildo into her mouth. It was of moderate girth, but long. Without breaking eye contact with Tracer, Widowmaker slid her lips down taking it deeper and deeper. She stopped only when it tickled the back of her throat. From there she sucked, allowing drool to dribble down the rest of the way. Some of which, dripped onto Tracer's face, much to the girl's dismay.

Tracer mumbled unintelligibly. Her muffled pleas made Widowmaker impatient. She pulled free from the dildo. Seeing that it was properly lubed, she stood over her captive and eased herself down onto it. A pleasurable groan escaped her lips when it entered. Once again, Tracer tried to pull away, but it was a tight fit which she could not break. And Widowmaker had no intention of letting go.

She bobbed up and down. Slowly at first, but gradually picking up speed. With each descending thrust Widowmaker slid further down the lengthy dildo. The bed squeaked as she bounced. Her moans of pleasure mixed with Tracer's smothered cries to form an exquisitely discordant symphony. The rhythm took on a heated frenzy. Burgeoning with every vigorous bounce. Swelling to the point of bursting.

Widowmaker threw back her head and arched her back, releasing an unbecoming squeal. Her whole body shuddered with delight. Sweat slicked her skin. She collapsed to her knees, taking in the dildo all the way up to its base. With heavy panting breathes she looked down at Tracer beneath her. Tears outlined the edges of her eyes. The blood had drained from the sweet girl's face, sharpening the contract between the freckles and her alabaster skin. A twisted, broken expression Widowmaker would savor forever.

"We're not done," said Widowmaker through shallow breathes.

With the dildo still inside her, Widowmaker spun around. On hands and knees, she crawled. Tracer wasn't as curvy as Widowmaker, but she had a lithe body. Fit and able. The muscles of her thighs tensed when caressed by Widowmaker's fingers. As careful as she might load her sniper, Widowmaker pinched the tab of the zipper and pulled it all the way down to the bottom stop. To her surprise, Tracer was sopping wet underneath. And not just from the heat of being trapped in the tight black panties.

"My my…What would people think if they saw you like this?"

"Mmmffghh," replied Tracer.

"Hmmm? I didn't quite get that, dear."

Tracer continued to moan incomprehensibly into the gag much to Widowmaker's delight. She glanced back over her shoulder to look down at the helpless girl once again.

"You want to be a good girl, don't you? I think you do. You can struggle and squirm all you like. Lie to yourself, lie to me, but your body reveals the truth of your desires. Just look at it…Positively dripping. You crave what only I can provide. But only good girls get treats. If you want to be a good girl you must first submit yourself to me, your mistress."

"Mmmff, mmmfghh!" Tracer failed to form words.

"Shhhhh, all you have to do is blink. Blink and I know you understand."

Tracer glared at Widowmaker, the last sparks of defiance flickering out behind her eyes like the dying coals of a hearth. Her cute face flushed red with shame, but she blinked nonetheless. When her eyelids peeled back all the fight was swept away, but it was no less aggression. Her defiance was merely replaced with a feral passion. Tracer gazed up at her mistress with a pleading look of urgency.

No words were needed to convey her desire. Widowmaker licked her lips and went down on Tracer. No teasing or fooling around. Widowmaker ravished Tracer's clit like she was born to do it. The British girl bucked her hips in response. Clearly, she hadn't had anyone as experienced as Widowmaker before. The dominatrix was forced to hold her slave down in order to continue.

Before long Widowmaker jolted as an involuntary wave of pleasure coursed throughout her body. She glanced back to see Tracer thrusting her head forward, shoving the dildo as far as she could.

Curious, Widowmaker raised her hips up some so that the whole of her ass wasn't resting just above her captive's face. Tracer compensated by forcing her head farther up, as high as the restraints would allow. Her neck strained with the effort to please her mistress. Every time her head poked up, Widowmaker could spot the black widow symbol of the collar.

"Good girl," exclaimed Widowmaker, "Good behavior won't go unrewarded."

Widowmaker returned to pleasuring her captive with renewed vigor.


	2. Chapter 2

Tracer lost track of time long ago. It felt like days since her mistress last paid her a visit. Widowmaker left her splayed and bound to the X-shaped post. A large ballgag forced Tracer's mouth open, causing her to consistently drool. The saliva slicked her chin and dribbled down to coat her bared breasts.

A blindfold prevented her from seeing and a pair of noise canceling headphones siphoned off the rest of her senses. Tracer had only her thoughts and the sticky touch of her own drool to occupy her time. She knew this sensory deprivation to be a test of her endurance. So, she waited patiently for her mistress to return. She did not want to disappoint and risk another flogging. Widowmaker's harsh training proved a difficult challenge. Tracer teetered on the edge of breaking, nearly losing herself several times.

While her thoughts remained her own Tracer could not help but obey Widowmaker's every command. No matter how degrading or painful. The training saw to that. Widowmaker enthralled Tracer's desire, making her body a slave to her mistress's every whim. It was difficult to admit, but Tracer had begun to enjoy herself. Widowmaker had unlocked something within her. Something dark. A ravenous beast collared and tamed. Only to be left chained to the pole, starved of pleasure. Long enough for her lust to build to the point of longing for Widowmaker's touch.

Just when she thought her mistress would never return Tracer felt hands brush her hair. The headphones were removed and warm breath caressed Tracer's ears.

"Did you miss me?"

The silky-smooth tone of her voice was enough to get Tracer wet. She purred in response like a cat in heat. Widowmaker giggled and pulled free the gag, allowing Tracer a single gasp of air before pressing her lips against her own. They tasted sweet like lavender oil. Their tongues wrestled for dominance inside Tracer's mouth. Despite her best efforts Tracer could not pin her mistress down and Widowmaker teasingly pulled away.

Tracer leaned forward and as far as she could whilst spread-eagled.

"More," she begged, "Please, Mistress. Don't leave me."

The blindfold was removed in an instant. The sudden light temporarily blinded Tracer. When her eyes adjusted she found Widowmaker standing before her in full battle attire. Her brow glistened, and her clothes were dirtied from hours of lying prone in a sniper's nest. She smelled of sweat. A stench Tracer had grown used to and even rather enjoyed though she wouldn't admit it to herself.

Widowmaker stood there, analyzing Tracer as if she were her next target. After seconds of silence, Widowmaker smiled.

"Yes," she mused, "I think you're ready."

Tracer cocked her head, "Ready, mistress? Ready for what?"

"I need a shower," said Widowmaker, ignoring her slave's question, "By the look of you, I'd say you deserve one as well. You've made quite the mess of yourself."

"Forgive me, mistress."

Widowmaker went to work undoing the bindings that anchored Tracer's wrists and ankles. When the last was undone Tracer took a single wobbly step before collapsing to her knees. The days of prolonged suspension drained the strength of her already tired muscles. Widowmaker clipped the leash to her slave's blackwidow collar and gave it a tug.

"Come along."

Tracer was forced to follow her mistress on hands and knees. She was led out of the chamber and towards the bathroom. The red tile floors were cold against her palms and knees, but Tracer knew better than to complain. She sat patiently waiting as her mistress unburdened herself. She tossed her gear into a bin near the door and proceeded into the shower. Widowmaker paused at the glass entrance and looked back at her.

"You want to be clean, don't you?"

Taken somewhat off guard, Tracer crawled into the shower with her mistress. This wasn't the first time she had been cleaned since being taken captive. But all times previous she had been good and bound during the process. Widowmaker bathed her like one might a wild dog. Half the time it was hard to tell if she was trying to wash her or drown her. It had gotten to the point where she actually preferred to remain in the bedroom filthy rather than go through the aggressive bathing.

However, something was different this time. She remained bound, but only by collar and leash, and there was a gentleness in Widowmaker's touch as she helped Tracer to her feet. Her kind demeanor had rather the opposite effect on Tracer who feared she was only being prepared for something worse.

Nonetheless she joined her mistress in the shower. The water was scalding and yet, nothing compared to the hot wax Tracer had gotten used to. She remained as still as possible, moving only when instructed to. Widowmaker lathered her in foamy soaps and shampoos, cleaning her from head to toe. She partook in nothing of her body. In fact, it seemed she was fully dedicated to her cleansing and nothing more.

Tracer wished she could say the same, but she couldn't help but be aroused. The water poured over Widowmaker's voluptuous form in small rivers. Standing side by side Tracer couldn't help but compare. Widowmaker's body was superior to her own in every respect. Her breasts were far more ample, yet just as firm. Her hips were curved and full. Her lips were a teasing promise of pleasure, which proved difficult for Tracer to resist. But it was Widowmaker's eyes which captured Tracer's adoration. She saw through everything, glimpsing the potential and weakness lying within. Not too long ago that stare would make Tracer want to huddle in a corner out of sight. But now, she felt compelled to prostrate herself before that golden gaze.

When they were done, Widowmaker dried them both with a towel before disappearing into the steam, which filled the room. Widowmaker emerged from the lingering steam not long after with a kit in her hands. She set the kit down on the floor and opened it up, revealing an assortment of makeup and bondage attire.

"Hold still now," she ordered.

Tracer obeyed. With delicate brushes, Widowmaker applied a heavy coat of eyeshadow to each lid. She lightly squeezed Tracer's cheeks, forcing her to pucker her lips. Widowmaker rubbed the stick evenly across Tracer's mouth, painting them with a black lipstick. Finished, she took a moment to inspect her work. Seemingly satisfied, she leaned forward and stole a deep kiss. When she pulled away she took Tracer's breath with her.

"Delicious," said Widowmaker after licking her own wet lips, "That will do just fine. Now, for the final touch."

Widowmaker pushed the kit towards Tracer who did not need to be told what to do next. She put on the harness and with her mistress's help, buckled it in place. The numerous straps were held together by rings of cold steel which pressed against her body enforcing good posture. Next, she slipped on a pair of latex gloves and socks, which squeezed tight her biceps and thighs. The gloves came with wrist restraints, which Widowmaker used to bind Tracer's arms behind her back.

Grabbing hold of the leash, Widowmaker led her slave back to the bedroom. In their absence it had been cleaned and prepared. They stopped at the foot of the bed and Tracer was eased down to both knees.

Widowmaker knelt down so that they were eyelevel, "I've trained you well. How well, we shall see. Consider this your graduation ceremony."

Before Tracer could form a response Widowmaker dawned a robe and left, closing the door behind her. At first, Tracer thought this another test of endurance. But when the door opened after only five minutes have passed her thoughts and hopes were dashed.

A man stepped into the room. A stranger in a black robe and skull mask.

"I can't believe it," said the stranger in a muffled voice, "It really is you…The Cavalry."

Tracer sank into herself, recoiling backwards. She thought about fleeing, but she knew she wouldn't get far. She tried once before and the punishment that followed nearly broke her. Tracer sat there, trembling before the man. It took a force of will to convince herself that this was simply a test of her reaction. If she folded, then she'd be punished severely. But if she played along, then Widowmaker would surely return and reward her for her efforts.

So, Tracer swallowed down shame and straightened her back.

"Oh," said the stranger, "she trained you well."

With that, he pulled the silk belt away and allowed his robes to part. Underneath he was as naked as the day he was born. Judging by his toned muscles and numerous scars Tracer judged him as a member of Widowmaker's elite strike force.

He stepped forward and she did not flinch, but instead held eye contact with those dark pits the mask formed. As he approached his cock rose like the morning sun. Tracer opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue in acceptance of such a gift as she was trained to by her mistress. She thought then she'd pass Widowmaker's test.

But her mistress did not reveal herself and the stranger did not stop. Holding her head still with both hands, the man guided his dick into her mouth. Tracer gagged upon entry. Her self-assurances crumbled into dust. The realization of her situation caused her to panic. She tried to pull away, but his strong grip kept her still.

The stranger pumped his hips forward, entering deeper into Tracer's mouth. She watched in horror as her black lips slid up and down the man's shaft, leaving a trail of saliva behind. Tracer instinctively tried to push him back, but her hands were firmly bound behind her back. The chain-link strained taut as she fought against it. Desperate, she waddled backwards on her knees and managed to break free of the man's grasp. His cock sprung loose from her mouth with a wet popping sound. Tracer let out a strangled cough and attempted to crawl away.

"Maybe not as trained as she might think," laughed the stranger.

He shoved Tracer onto her stomach and pressed his knee into her back, pinning her to the floor.

"No," she screamed, "Let me go, please, I-"

The rest of her pleas were cut short as the man forced a ring gag into her mouth. The large metal band left her jaw gaping wide. With the gag firmly in place, the man took her by the shoulders and tossed her up against the end of the bed. The stranger stood over Tracer, before she had a chance to squirm away. He grabbed a tuft of her hair and yanked it forward, forcing his dick back into her throat. It slid past her propped open black lips with ease, filling her mouth.

The stranger remained still, preferring to move her head back and forth at break neck speed. Tracer closed shut her eyes. Tears bled mascara down her face. Widowmaker's training was brutal, but she was never this aggressive. The man had her suck his cock like a wild animal. Her throat was on fire from the use. She gurgled and gasped, but he refused to give her a break. His pace only quickened.

Tracer had no choice but to submit. If she resisted, then she'd risk straining her neck. When she started to suck on her own the man thankfully eased off a little. This allowed him to focus on his own rhythm, which sped up at an alarming rate. With his hand still to guide her, they fell into perfect sync. He thrusted forward when she pulled back. She chased after his cock as he withdrew. In this symbiotic motion, the man groaned his pleasure. The cadence reached its peak. And just as Tracer knew she was about to finish him she tried to pull away

Only for the stranger to force her head forward, taking the whole cock into her mouth. He pressed her face into his pelvis and emptied himself at the very back of her mouth. White hot cum shot down her throat. Tracer squirmed and tried to break away, but he held her pressed against him so tight her nose scrunched. With pleading eyes, she glanced straight up at the man. But he had thrown back his head at climax.

Only when the last waves of pleasure burned out in his veins did he let her go. Tracer collapsed on her side, coughing and hacking. With some effort she managed to purge all he had given her onto the floor, much to the stranger's disappointment.

"That won't do," he said with heavy breath, "Oh, I see. You're not used to a man, are you? So that's why she brought me…To break you in."

He seized a strap running across her back and lifted her up. The rest of the harness dug into her skin as if she had fallen into a net trap. She groaned her displeasure, but it fell on deaf ears. The stranger dropped her onto the bed face down.

Again, she tried to worm her way out of his reach, but he got her by her thighs. With a laugh he pulled her back and Tracer slid onto his cock. The wild beast in Tracer roared its pleasure. This has been what it was waiting for all that time restrained to the X-shaped post. With all of her senses stripped away it was left to starve, making her hungry even for this defilement.

The stranger weighed into her with a passion matching that of her own. With every thrust he pounded her down against the bed, only for her to bounce back up. The pillows muffled her cries that is until he jerked on her leash, pulling her up so that she could witness her own reflection in the mirror embedded into the bed's large headboard. With one hand gripping the leash and the other on her bound wrists he held her there, forcing her to watch herself get fucked. The black widow emblem on her collar blazed red in the reflection, watching the intensity of the stranger's eyes. She could just glimpse them behind the pits of the bone mask.

Wave after wave of pleasurable pain caused Tracer to let out a savage moan. The ring gag still forced her mouth open. Excess saliva spilled out and stained the sheet below her. She yelped as he slapped her bare ass. The strength behind the blow was far greater than that of her mistress. Already it stung.

The drum beat of flesh smacking against flesh set the course for the night to come. Tracer wasn't even sure when it was over. The next thing she knew he was just gone. She hadn't the strength to even sit up. He left her there, used and lying in puddles of her own making. Her hair was a mess. The straps had left marks where they rubbed against her skin. Her ass was beat red and throbbing from the abuse.

From the shadows the familiar voice of her mistress spoke to her, "Perhaps I overestimated you."

Tracer fought to raise her head, "M…Mistress," she mumbled through the ring gag.

Quick as a snake, Widowmaker seized Tracer's tongue, "You still have so much to learn," she smiled then, "Back to training."


End file.
